'And for you.'

'But why? I am nothing to you – a stranger who slept one night in.your father's house.'

His eyes were merry. 'You must be something more than that to Ganieda. All else aside, I would have done it anyway if my father asked. But now that I know you better, I can say that I would have it no other way.'

'Be that as it may, I free you from your errand. I will continue south alone. You may still return home before -'

Gwendolau shook his head and slapped me on the back. 'It is too late, Myrddin, my brother. We have no choice but to continue. I have heard that it does not snow so much in the south, and I am determined to prove this for myself.'

Very well, as I did not greatly relish the prospect of wending my cold way alone, I let them come with me. Later that very day, we turned our horses south and did not look back. Suffice to say that the journey to Maridunum was nothing like that of three years before – half a lifetime before, it seemed to me then.

It was mean and miserable going. There were no roads, Roman or otherwise, through wild Cymry and we lost count of time on the trail – sometimes taking a whole day to traverse a single snow-bound valley, or surmount a lonely, frost-bitten ridge. The days grew shorter, and we rode more often than not in darkness – and in icy, flesh-numbing rain. Gwendolau's good humour carried us on long after Baram and I were too cold and exhausted to care whether we took another step. And though the high mountain passes were choked with snow, we somehow managed to find an alternate route when one was needed and so came at long last into Dyfed, the land of the Demetae.

I will never forget riding into Maridunum. The town glistened under a pall of new-fallen snow, and the stark trees stretched like black, skeleton hands against a pewter sky. It was late in the afternoon and we could feel the night air settling blue and hard around us. But within me a fire burned bright, for I had returned: three years late, it is true; nevertheless, I had returned.

I hoped that Maelwys was at home. I knew we would be welcome anyway, but I desperately wanted to see him to ask after my mother and the rest of my people, to learn what had happened in my long absence.

We rode through the empty streets of the town and followed the trail up to the villa. We were not surprised to find horses standing in the yard, for we had followed their tracks up the hill. As we came into the yard two servants with torches came from the hall to tend to the horses there. We hailed them as we dismounted.

'We have journeyed far to see Lord Maelwys,' I told them. 'Is he within?'

They came to meet us, holding the torches high and peering into our faces. 'Who is it that asks?'

Tell him that Myrddin is here.'

The two looked at one another. 'Do we know you?'

'Perhaps you do not know me, but Maelwys does. Tell him the son of Taliesin waits without and would see him.'

'Myrddin ap Taliesin!' The foremost servant's eyes grew round. He shoved his companion away. 'Go! Hurry!'

There followed an awkward interval while we waited for the servant to come back. He never did. For while we waited beneath the torch, the door of the hall was heaved open and people came streaming out of the hall into the foreyard, Maelwys leading them all.

He stood for a moment, gazing at me. 'Myrddin, we have been waiting for you… '

Maelwys held me at arm's length and I saw the tears. I had expected a warm reception, but… the King of Dyfed crying for my return? That exceeded any expectations I might have had, and I knew no way to account for it. I had met the man only once.

'Merlin… ' The press of curious onlookers parted and Maelwys stepped away. The voice belonged to Charis, who stood in a halo of light from the doorway; tall, regal, a slim tore of gold around her throat and her hair in a hanging braid after the fashion of highborn Demetae women. Her white silk gown was long and her blue cloak richly embroidered. I had never seen her looking more a queen. She stepped towards me, then opened her arms wide and I flew into her embrace.

'Merlin… oh, my little Hawk, my son… so long… I have waited so long… ' Her tears were warm on my neck.

'Mother -' There were tears in my throat and eyes as well; I had not dared hope to find her here. 'Mother… I wanted to come sooner, I would have come sooner… '

'Shh, not now. You are here and safe… safe… I knew you would come back. I knew you would find a way… you are here… here, my Merlin.' She put a hand to my face and kissed me tenderly, then took my hand. We might have been the only people in the yard. 'Come inside. Warm yourself. Are you hungry, son?'

'We have not eaten well for two days.'

Maelwys stepped close. 'There is venison inside, and bread, and mead. Come in, everyone come inside! We will drink to the wanderer's return! Tomorrow we will celebrate with a feast!'

We were swept into the hall, aglow with torches and a roaring fire on the hearth, where the table was laid and the meal already begun. Another table was hastily prepared and platters of food produced. My mother kept my hand clasped tightly in hers, and I felt the anxiety I had lived with for the last many months begin to melt in the light and joy of reunion, even as the warmth of the hall seeped into my bones.

Gwendolau and Baram were not overlooked. I had no worry for them; they fell in naturally with Maelwys' men. Indeed, in my joy at being home once more I soon forgot all about them.

Old Pendaran, Maelwys' father, rose from his throne-like chair to greet me, saying, 'I cannot see where your wandering has hurt you at all. You look a healthy young man – lean and strong, keen-eyed as your namesake bird, lad. Come to me later and we will discuss certain matters.'

It was not likely that my mother would let me out of her sight for a moment that night, nor for many days to come. But I assured him that we would talk soon. 'There is much to say, Merlin,' said Charis. 'I have so much to tell you, but now that you are here I can remember none of it.'

'We are together. Nothing else matters now.'

A great platter of meat and bread addressed me, and a horn of mead. I sipped the warm liquid and began to eat. 'You have grown, my son. The last time I saw you -' Her voice faltered and she dropped her eyes. 'Eat. You are hungry. I have waited this long, I can wait a little longer.'

After a few bites, I forgot my hunger and turned to her. She was watching me as if she had never seen me before. 'Have I changed so much?'

'Yes and no. You are no longer the boy you were, true. But you are my son and I will always see you the same, come what may.' She squeezed my hand. 'It is so good to have you here with me once more.'

'If you knew how often I thought of this moment in the last three years – '

'And if you knew how many nights I lay awake thinking of you, wondering where you were, what you were doing.'

'I wept for the worry I caused you. I prayed for a way to reach you. That's why, when Elac saw the searchers in the valley, I sent my clothes, and the broken arrow. I meant it as a sign.'

'Oh, I took it as more than a sign, as confirmation. I knew you were alive and well -'

'How?'

'In the same way I would have known if you had been hurt or killed. A mother, I believe, can always tell. When they brought me your clothes I knew – even though the men who found them did not want to show me the bundle. They thought it meant that you were dead; the bhean sidhe had killed you and were taunting your friends, or some such thing. I knew otherwise. I knew you must have had good reason to do what you had done.' She paused and sighed. 'What happened, Merlin? We came back for you. We searched. We found the waterskins, found where you had huddled in the fog… What happened?'

And so I began to tell her about all that had taken place since that strange night. I talked and she listened to every word, and the distance between us simply shrank away to nothing, so that in the end it seemed almost as if I had never been away at all.